The Good Samaritan
by GreenNebulae
Summary: It's Christmas: a coup in Moriarty's own network, and a serial killer who got away comes back to play, the only thing that would make it better is if Sherlock could figure out where John Watson has been hiding this particular skill set. Crime centric. Based off the episode on the Blacklist.
1. Chapter 1

**TheDarkestShinobi:** This is based off of an episode in the Blacklist so certain scenes will be VERY similar. Not sure whether of the relationship between Sherlock and John in the story honestly, but if you have a preference you can always put it in the reviews. I am known to please the reviewers.

 **Story start**

Moriarty is very good at a few things.

He can read a person's lifestyle, likes and dislikes from their appearance and a few words. He has built himself an empire allowing him to be the most powerful man in England, mostly likely Europe. He can have people killed with a nod or spared with a wave of a hand. He could walk into any room and leave with anything he wanted.

While he is often using his skills all of the time, he hadn't expected to have to use them in his current situation, mostly because he was supposed to be untouchable. He was the man behind the curtains that pulled strings but he wasn't supposed to be seen, let alone kidnapped. He has many men willing to jump in front of a bullet to protect him. Honestly, he had surrendered himself to a beating to learn more about Sherlock once, but his plans did not include being beat in a basement.

He's got a concussion so he's not as sharp as he could be; still he knows that there are four men. Moriarty's head jerks to the side with the punch to the face. One is a leak in his department. Separate the pain from his body and his thoughts. Gut. One has to be medically trained. He spits out the blood in his mouth once it fills. Yes, one of them has to, they kept him alive this long, but right on the verge of going under. Moriarty starts to feel dizzy again, barely registers being hit again.

Damn Moran, having to leave and see family.

"No, it's time to leave." Moriarty hears and it stills his thoughts. Observe, what can the voice tell him? "We are not supposed to kill him."

"Do you know what this man does?" One yells. The direction of sound, the breathing rate and the anger in his tone indicate that this is the one hitting him. "He makes us all look like the fucking son of God." Moriarty spits out the gathering blood in his mouth so he doesn't choke on it. Too much blood. Is he internally bleeding? Lost teeth?

"I'm leaving." The second voice says and when the blindfold is ripped off, after the footsteps have retreated, it's only Moriarty and the first man.

"I'm a bad guy," he admits as Moriarty memorizes his features, "but I ain't got nothing on you." The other turns his back to walk away and grab a gun. "The way I see it, I'm doing the world a favor this time. Cancel another one out, you know?" The gun is aimed at Moriarty's head and he spends an instant running through scenarios, but he isn't getting out of this one alive. Moriarty smiles, the blood covering his teeth and giving him a terrifying smile.

"See what happens." He bluffs, but it was truly a threat, because Moran would track this guy down if he killed him.

"You ain't got nobody around." The gun quivers and Moriarty stares at the barrel. It's true. Moriarty has no one here. He's still smiling. "We know where the dog is." Moriarty refuses to back down, not even as the gun is pressed to his temple. This isn't the fitting end he imagined, but flirting with death comes with a cost. He always knew that one day the mistress would come snatch him. He stops his large smile and just looks to it with an amused and curious gaze. Could he shoot? Is this really it? His last few seconds alive. It's such a rush. He can feel the blood pumping in his head, how many pieces of furniture in the room could he color? "So don't bluff." Moriarty blinks; and Moran truly deserves a raise, because in that time Moran has thrown the man like a rag doll.

"He doesn't bluff." Moran growls out as he stomps on the man's elbow, breaking it. The man screams, but Moriarty's not worried about witnesses. Moran kneels, likely to snap a neck and Moriarty coughs.

"No." Moran freezes and Moriarty lets out a breath. "I need names, there were three more." That he knew of at least. Moran nods and backs away slightly. Moriarty realizes there is a second weapon too late, but before the man can truly become a threat again Moran shoots, killing the other. Moriarty groans and Moran knows it's a mix of pain and frustration, so he lets out a sigh of his own. He turns and raises a hand.

"He had a gun, and I…" Moran waves the hand around "instinct." Moriarty wants to laugh and, seeing that he's in the clear, Moran turns and unties his boss and oldest friend.

"I have carried soldiers in many different countries with many different wounds. It doesn't mean anything that you needed to be carried." Moran silences Moriarty's protest before it starts, so Moriarty just closes his eyes and tries to focus on the information he gathered. He can only determine that he needs medical assistance soon. Especially once he opens his eyes and realizes he's in the backseat of a car.

"It's almost funny though, I leave for one weekend to see the family and this is what you get into?" Moran jokes once he knows they are on the road and safe and Moriarty groans in the backseat.

"I need you to call Victor when we get back." Moran glances to the mirror to figure out if its Moriarty or his likely concussion talking.

"Victor?" Victor was a brand of crazy that made Moran wince. "You sure you want to bring him back?" Moriarty nods once; very shallow and easy to miss.

"No doubt the Iceman and therefore the Virgin are going to find out about this. If they find my leak before I do…" He trails off looking out the window and Moran nods. "I wonder if they can catch him this time." Moriarty muses aloud.

"He couldn't last time." Moran glances to the rearview mirror to see a wide grin on Moriarty's face.

"Yes, but this time Sherlock has the Soldier." Moran stops the car at the next red. "Yes, Johnny boy may be able to figure this out faster than Sherlock." Moran narrows his brow in confusion.

"How?" He doesn't pretend he can keep up with his friend, but sometimes he thinks he's got the hang of it, this isn't one of those times.

"Johnny boy's got secrets." He taps his fingers against the sill. "Not from me, but Sherlock is so stupid at times."

"Ma made brownies for you, by the way." Moran offers as they pull into one of their hideout's garages.

"With nuts?" Moriarty grins after Moran nods. "Today's looking up."

 **TDS:** review!


	2. Chapter 2

**TheDarkestShinobi:** here we go!

Moriarty picks a brownie from the table as Moran laughs and the doctor groans.

"Honestly, you'll make it difficult to treat you if you keep moving." The man presses against Moriarty's bare chest and he gasps as he almost drops the brownie. "One broken, two fractured," the doctor diagnoses, "you'll have to avoid brawls for a bit, especially with the concussion."

"Yes, make that go away, it's making it harder to think." Moriarty winces as he bites down on Ma's brownie, his jaw bursting with pain. Moran glances between his spotted and bruised boss and the doctor.

When he takes in Jim's form he feels a mix of rage and guilt. How had someone done this? Jim's arm is fractured; his side is purple, three damaged ribs, a significant concussion and bruised organs, plus enough drugs to OD on. Who had known he wouldn't have been here and what was Jim doing out without him?

"I'm not confined to my house whenever you go home." Moriarty responds to the unvoiced thought. "They killed Marcus."

"You just had Marcus?"

"Hindsight is 2020." Moriarty turns to face Moran and Moran takes in all of the colors on his chest. His retort dies in his throat as he is racked with guilt. He wasn't there. "They would have killed you if you were there." Jim says as he reads Moran's face.

"They didn't kill you."

"No, but they would have." Jim turns to the doctor. "Final thoughts?"

"Stay inactive, that means thinking too. It'll take a few weeks to heal. Brace on the wrist and I'll need to put a cast on the arm."

"No need for a cast if it's not broken."

"It's a fracture." The doctor shakes his head, "at least wear a sling," a pause, "in the house." He puts it on Moriarty as he takes another bite of the brownie and winces. "Ice on the face, softer foods. You've got bruising around the eyes but no breaks so you only need to call if your vision becomes impaired."

"One last question: are all my teeth good?" Jim smiles menacingly at the doctor who shakes his head and keeps walking out.

"You'd need a dentist to figure that out." The door closes and Jim spins to face Moran. He's wearing black slacks and nothing else. His wrist is in a black brace and his arm in a blue sling. The other side of his body is covered in yellow, red and purple blotches of skin. His face is swollen and bruised as well.

"You look like shit, Jim."

"You should see what I'm about to do to the other guy." Jim smiles ferociously and his jaw hurts deliciously.

…

"This is too easy." John says as he pulls Sherlock's elbow back. Sherlock looks towards John before putting his hands in his coat pockets and slowing his walk so that the detective inspector and Sally walk ahead of them.

"I agree, but it's not a trap."

"Maybe not, but it is a bad sign." John takes a sweeping glance of the area before sniffing. "I don't like it."

…

"Thank goodness for the chip in your neck." Moriarty rubs his neck at the mention of it.

"I don't know why I let you talk me into that. Anything electronic could be traced."

"And yet no one looks."

"People are stupid." Moriarty agrees. He takes a deep breath as his eyes close. "Have we contacted Victor?"

"Yes. He has a condition."

"Oh?"

"He wants his mother." Jim nods as he lets out another breath.

"Yes, that would be excellent motivation for him, wouldn't it? Give him his dear old mum, I'm sure she'll be delighted to see him again." Based on his tone, Moran can tell that terrified is a better word, but he sends a text with a nod.

"Release the animal, Moran. Let's hope he's a good distraction."

"Will Sherlock really take Victor over you?" Moran asks as he watches Jim fold his hands under his chin.

"Yes. Victor is a sore spot for the Virgin, and he'll hardly be able to resist him. Not even this can lead him away. I will always be his enemy and he's accepted the possibility that I may be out of his reach." He opens his eyes and stares at Moran. "Victor is ordinary. And well, losing to ordinary means you're not extraordinary anymore." Moriarty shakes his head with a whisper "and we can't have that."

"Now, to the important matter at hand," Moriarty stands and spins, lifting his hands as if there were worlds that moved with him. Moran crosses his arms to watch. When Sherlock called him a spider, he wasn't completely off, and if anyone could see the way Moriarty works they'd find a new definition of awe, and of fear.

"There were four people, all in masks, that took me, and no doubt, one that paid them." Jim throws the idea to one side. "Meaning at least five." Moran nods. "There was one who was able to monitor my vital signs and injuries and tell the others when to stop. One who was well versed in torture. One knew my schedule and yours, and the perfect time to strike. And one worked at Scotland Yard." Jim throws each idea to a side.

"One of our moles?"

"One of the four didn't want to be there, he must have been threatened. He should be the easiest to find."

"Okay, so what are you going to do?"

"Actually, I'm going to stay here and listen to my good old doctor." Moran turns his head.

"Okay." He says slowly.

"I'm going to send you on a scavenger hunt, Sebby." Jim grins as he picks something out of the air. "There are three possibilities for the first. Thompson, Jefferson or Davis."

"I would think Davis." Moran crosses his arms.

"I'm thinking Davis is the most trustworthy, but you'll talk to all of them the same. Quietly at first, then we'll send a message."

"How quiet?"

"I don't want anyone to bat an eyelash."

"And Victor?"

"He always sends a message, no need to do anything with him."


	3. Chapter 3

"Just smile, Sherlock." John whispers as he smiles for the cameras. Sherlock turns to him and purses his lips.

"I don't understand. This is part of Moriarty's network. It was too easy."

"Why isn't he stopping us, then? You think it's a trap?" John turns to Sherlock, and the photographers grumble about the lack of good shots.

"Something else must have his attention." Sherlock suddenly grins as he jumps of the stage and stalks forward.

"The game is on John!" John shakes his head as he leaps off the stage and follows.

A photographer snaps a picture of Sherlock grinning as he walks forward and John running after Sherlock with a small smile. She titles it 'Too big to stay still, Sherlock and John are off to solve their next case!' and ends up winning an award for it later that year.

…

"Yes, I did receive her, thank you very much." Victor speaks into the phone as he watches the woman sleeping on the slab. He glances over to his horrified mother and smiles. "I can get started right now if you'd like." His smile turns into a grin as he hangs up the phone and walks over to his next target. "Brittany?" She blinks a few times trying to clear her head, "oh, Brittany?" She groans something out in response and he smiles. "Can you hear me?" She nods and feels as if her head has exploded. She tries to lift her hand to cradle her head but it won't move. Her eyes open wide as she tries to tug on all of her limbs. She realizes that she's tied to some kind of table, gagged and tied down.

"You were drugged." By someone, at the party. She remembers bits and pieces. Oh god! Is her son okay? "What are you feeling?" He takes out the gag and she licks her lips. "Can you tell me?"

"My head hurts," she confesses. Maybe this man is here to help her? "How did I get here? Am I going to be okay?" He shakes his head slowly as he smiles.

"No, Brittany, you are not going to be okay at all." She tries to yank harder to free herself, but this causes him to turn away and do something before coming back into her line of vision. She can feel the panic set in as she sees him.

"Who are you?" He doesn't answer. He is the one who is going to right all of her wrongs. He's the collector, and it's time for her to pay and even the scales. "What's going on? Wait. Wait" This can't be happening. "Where am I?" He looks up at some pictures. She thinks they are X-Rays. It's hard to know whose.

"Quite a chart here, quite a chart." He says out loud, but it's mostly for his own ears.

"First we are going to start by collapsing your left lung. I'm going to puncture it with this." He lifts up the tool to show her before placing it on a table next to her head. It's set up like a surgery room in a hospital. "Now, there is going to be a sharp pain and you might scream, but it will be followed by an involuntary cough." He continues before he coughs to demonstrate, "causing a shortness of breath as _all_ the air rushes out." He sounds so happy to have her here in front of him.

"No, No!" she wonders if anyone can hear her. He unbuttons her shirt to reveal a black bra. "I don't even know you." She cries, there is no escape from this. She's too young! She's, she's, no, this can't be happening. She says no, she begs it; she repeats it over and over again, even as he continues in his speech.

"Now, once the lung fills with blood we will move on." He has the tools in hand and she can't move anything. Next I'll move on to the collar bone, specifically the medial end of the left clavicle. It will cause you extreme pain." He smiles. "Well, let's get started."

"No," she begs again as he hold the tool over her chest. There is a small ting as metal hits metal and pierces flesh. She screams and then feels everything leave her in a powerful cough, and then another.

…

"What's your emergency?" The operator opens, she sounds calm and collected especially for someone who has to deal with emergencies. No matter, he looks over his shoulder to see Brittany's eyes open and close.

"I've done it again." He hopes he sounds sorry. He's not. He's just a debt collector, after all.

"Sir?" She repeats and he drops the phone to walk away. He's collected his debt; let them save her if they can.

…

"I've been told to offer you both knighthood." Mycroft opens after placing a thick stack of folders on their table. John gives a half smile of disbelief and Sherlock groans.

"Threatened more like." He frowns at John's interest. "Oh, come John, how long do you want your name to be? Sir Captain Doctor John Watson?"

"There are longer names." Mycroft offers but his attention is on his umbrella. "Now," Mycroft tosses the flaps of his suit coat as he sits in John's chair. John frowns as he comes out of the kitchen, but just leans on the arm rest of Sherlock's chair. "I also have something else I think you will find interesting." Sherlock scans his brother as John glances between them.

"More so than Moriarty?" Sherlock leans forward in his chair. His curls his fingers and rests his chin on them as his other hand settles on his thigh. John has never seen him more interested in anything. Mycroft presses his lips together into some sort of smile and John tilts his.

"A murder." John offers, and Sherlock responds as if Mycroft made the statement.

"There is a coup in Moriarty's own network, why would I let myself get distracted with a murder?"

"It's something I think you'll find worth your time." Mycroft says as he tosses the top file at Sherlock. It opens to reveal a woman, and John can tell she's got a broken ankle, a broken clavicle and

"Collapsed lung?" he asks and Mycroft nods.

"Looks like the one who got away has just come back to play." Sherlock can't help the small smile that graces his features.

"Christmas?" John asks and Sherlock's smile widens.

"In July!" Sherlock stands before turning to his brother. "There's a new one then."

"Lestrade will call you as soon as he can bring you on." Sherlock crosses his arms and Mycroft taps the thick stack of folders on their table.

"It is high profile. Make use of your time; see if there is anything you missed the first time."


End file.
